


The Dreams We Leave Behind

by arturas



Series: Everything You Ever Wanted [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Family Drama, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Original Character(s), Other, Pre-Canon, Psychology, Siblings, Slow To Update, Trauma, Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26453698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arturas/pseuds/arturas
Summary: Second chances are never guaranteed. For Yugi and Sugoroku, a second chance is more than they thought they’d get and nothing they were ever really prepared for. Sometimes, life would be easier if lost things remained lost – but there’s never a way to tell until it’s far, far too late. [AU; warning for mentions/discussions of child abuse and its effects, various psychological conditions, minor violence. No explicit depictions; just the aftermaths]
Series: Everything You Ever Wanted [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922959
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue: Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Not quite where it all began, but it might as well be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific warnings: implied child abuse/trauma/mental health issues, explicit child suffering/pain.

_"Life takes you to unexpected places. Love brings you home."_

_~ Mistletoe Magic, Melissa McClone_

* * *

She doesn’t know when she started walking; all she knows is that she has to keep going. One foot in front of the other, again and again and again. She’s not sure where she’s walking to or even why she’s walking at all. Her memories are hazy, like they’re behind a fogged glass door, and every time she tries to reach for them she feels like she’s going to vomit for reasons she can’t even try to recall.

The world around her is almost completely silent. In her ghost-like state she can’t even hear her own footsteps – she might as well be invisible to those around her. She certainly feels like it. Nobody tries to stop her, nobody tries to talk to her. Or maybe they are and she just can’t hear them. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s ignored someone trying to help her. She’s been told she’s good at that.

The sun rises and sets again and again. Sometimes she remembers to eat. Sometimes she lets herself stop to close her eyes but she can’t tell if she truly ever sleeps; she never feels rested anymore. Once again she is adrift in the world and this time she can’t even summon the energy to care. She hates the crawling feeling over her skin, hates that she can’t even hear herself breathe, but she stays in the silence all the same. In the silence she doesn’t feel real anymore. In the silence there is no unwanted touching, no muffled sobbing, no stench of blood or piercing of flesh. There is only silence, and walking.

Eventually she stumbles, not for the first time, and finds she can no longer get back up to her feet. It’s an odd sensation. She can _see_ her legs. She can _feel_ her legs. But when she tries to make them push her up again they just twitch and tremble uselessly.

She stares hard at them, willing them to work, and is caught off-guard by how filthy her jeans are. They’re stained and scraped and faded, stuck to her knees with blood and dirt, so much looser than she vaguely remembers them being. Her shoes are covered in mud and dust. One of them has holes in the top that she can see scabbed toes through. And as she looks down at her hands – screw force of will, she’ll move the damn legs herself if she has to – she’s dully surprised to note that they’re trembling. Also filthy, bruised and scratched to hell. But the trembling is something new. Is this even her body? Sometimes it is, she remembers that much, but is it her body right now? It doesn’t _feel_ like her body anymore. Did she ever know what her body felt like?

Something in her mind dimly realises that she should be more worried about this than she is. But it’s like the thought is being shouted from another room. It _sounds_ like a thing that she should worry about, and she probably should be worried about not even knowing who she is at the moment, but she just can’t force herself to feel worried. She’s not angry, not scared, not _anything_. It’s like her emotions are being kept in glass jars. She can see them, she knows that they’re there, but she can’t touch them. Can’t _feel_ them.

The hands that aren’t hers pull her forwards. The legs that aren’t hers slide after them, crawling in a disjointed, jerky motion. They move her around the corner of a building and down a damp, dark alleyway, for some reason squeezing her underneath a metal bin on wheels before stopping again. The most she can make them do again is twitch. The eyelids that aren’t hers feel heavy, somehow, even though she’s not tired. She eventually decides that because it’s not her body it doesn’t matter if _she’s_ not tired, only if it’s tired, and stops trying to force the limbs to move. Maybe if she lets it rest for a moment she can make it her body again and she can be on her way to… to wherever she was going…

When she next opens her eyes the alleyway is damper and darker and the pain is enough to make her scream out loud. The sound echoes down the alley as a whisper – like the scrape of a stick on cement, or a far-off birdcall – and she screams again and again and again to no greater effect. Her legs hurt. Her stomach hurts. Her chest hurts. Her _everything_ hurts. Something dimly registers satisfaction that it is indeed her body again but it’s a very fleeting sensation; there’s just simply too much pain.

She rolls onto her side, choking down the lump in her throat, and slowly tucks herself into a ball. Each tiny movement makes her whimper. She has to stop for a rest partway through; she just doesn’t have the energy to make it there all in one go. She was…. she was going somewhere, she remembers that much, but right now she doesn’t even think she could stand, much less start walking again.

‘Hello? Is someone there?’ a strange voice calls out. It’s the first voice she can remember hearing in what feels like forever and it startles her enough that she gasps. A strange, ragged, wheezing sound reaches her ears and she’s confused for a moment before realising that the noise was the gasp that _she_ made. She must have forgotten what her own body sounded like, she thinks to herself, trying to figure out why this realisation is worrying.

Then the alleyway is flooded with light and she realises she’s not alone.

She can see two pairs of legs from beneath the dumpster. They belong a man and a woman, both in familiar blue uniforms with black shoes. Reflexive fear overrides her pain briefly, enough for her to try to push herself further beneath the dumpster, before she realises she doesn’t even remember why she’s afraid of them and collapses into a whimpering, agonised ball once again.

‘Yeah, I can hear it too. Under the dumpster, I think. Stray dog?’

‘Could be. Sounds in pain, whatever it is. Hello? Is anyone there?’

Something in her mind tells her she should cry out, ask them for help. Something else tells her to go back to the silence and stay here forever. She doesn’t feel like she has the energy to do either, though, so she just stays in her ball and tries to whimper a little more softly.

The man’s feet take a few steps forward and then suddenly there’s a bright beam of light on her face – bright enough to make her _eyes_ hurt, though they kind of did already – and someone curses aloud before it moves away from her face, leaving her only mostly blinded. She blinks, hard. She wants to rub her eyes but her hands feel far too far away for that.

‘Ito, it’s a kid.’

‘What?’

‘A kid. A girl, I think – looks like a goddamn skeleton. Call for medical assistance; I’m going to try to get her out.’

Her vision finally fades back in as the light returns, softer this time, and aimed away from her face. It doesn’t help much; it’s still too bright for her to see anything past it.

‘Hi, sweetheart,’ he says, in the most gentle and calming voice she thinks she’s ever heard. ‘My name’s Gin; I’m with the Motosu Police Department. Can you hear me? I’m here to help you.’

She nods once, slowly, or at least tries to. She can’t tell if her head actually moves. Her heart is pounding. She should be running, or hiding, or _something_ other than just laying here. Shouldn’t she?

The voice fades for a moment as it talks to someone else (‘Conscious, maybe, but definitely not okay.’) before it comes back to speak to her. ‘Okay. Can you crawl towards me at all? Towards the light?’

Even the thought of movement hurts. She’s still not sure she wants to be found, either, even as something in her mind points out that she already _has_ been found. She doesn’t know what she wants anymore – if she ever did – and so she just lies there, still and quiet, unable to move.

‘Okay. That’s – that’s okay. Just don’t move, all right?’ The light is taken away, leaving her blinking at the sudden darkness. The voice fades again (‘Ito, help me move the bin. She’s like – yeah, we’ll have to pull that corner forwards, she’s right up on the back left wheel –’). Just as she’s beginning to think they’ve left her entirely, a metallic scraping noise begins to echo through the ground and into her skull.

She yelps as a pair of hands close around her ankles. The noise comes out as a soft squeak, like the last gasp of a dog’s chew-toy, and does nothing to stop her being slowly dragged out from underneath the dumpster. Each bump in the concrete sends another jolt of pain through her already-aching body. She tries to tell them to slow down, to just leave her there, to pull faster, to go away. The words fade to nothing before they’ve even left her mouth; her throat is sandpaper and her tongue is shrivelled to chalk.

As she’s dragged further and further out of the darkness the hands move higher – to her knees, then her hips, then her waist – until finally someone picks her completely up off the ground. The world is blurrier than she remembers it being. There’s a dull thumping sound coming from somewhere nearby – tha- _thud_ , tha- _thud_ , tha- _thud_ – and high-pitched sirens from somewhere much further away. The voices are still talking (‘Not long on the ambulance.’ – ‘ _God_ , she’s in bad shape. Got the water?’ – ‘Yeah, here we go. Get her upright for a second –’) and then the world shifts again as she’s lowered back to sit on the ground, leaning up against something warm and soft.

It’s almost relaxing until something cold and wet is poured into her mouth. She splutters and coughs before remembering how to swallow; that first mouthful feels like frozen, molten fire being poured down her throat. The next one is cooler, though, and the third one almost feels nice. Then before she can take another sip the bottle is taken away, replaced by a blurry, hazy face.

‘Easy, not too much,’ the face says gently. ‘Too much will make you sick. There’s a good girl. Can you tell me your name, sweetheart? Or how old you are?’

She tries to swallow again; despite the water it feels like her throat’s almost dried out already. She can’t remember who she is anymore, what she looks like anymore, if she ever looked like herself anymore… let alone a name. A voice in her mind gives her one though. A soft, warm, mother-like voice that speaks firmly yet kindly, leaving no room to argue. ‘Ka…Kana,’ she wheezes.

‘Kana? That’s a pretty name. Is that your full name?’

She blinks. She doesn’t know anymore. She doesn’t know if she ever did.

The water-bottle is returned and she takes another three agonising mouthfuls. This time when the bottle’s pulled away the face is less hazy, less fuzzy; a little more real. ‘Try again, sweetheart.’

‘R-rei. Kana.’ It still doesn’t sound like her name. She’s not sure _anything_ sounds like her name, or if anything ever will. But the voice in her mind said it was, so for now, it was.

The face fades away again (‘Reikana, correct – no, no idea on age; just run it against all the active notices for children. Anything under fourteen.’). When it comes back into focus this time she can see the features: brown eyes, pursed lips, furrowed brows. ‘Reikana-chan, can you tell me what happened to you?’

She stares at the curtain of black hair that falls around the woman’s face. For a moment she sees Sister Maria once more, smiling from beneath the folds of her habit – for a shorter moment still, she sees the violet eyes and fading face of her mother.

She’s no child. With what she’s seen and what she’s done, she can’t call herself a child anymore. Children are innocent and she is as sinful as they come. But right here, right then, right _now_ she is just a twelve-year-old child scared out of her mind. She is twelve years old, in her own body again for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, and even after everything she’s seen and done her pride won’t stop her pleading for the one thing she wants like the child she hasn’t been for years.

‘Home,’ she whimpers, as the tears begin to spill from her eyes. ‘I jus’ wan’ed t’ go home.’


	2. Make a Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vocabulary lessons bring up old memories, and a phone-call is answered.

_You talk about the way things were_

_but I can't hear what you're saying –_

_a time when life was not this hard,_

_blessed by the innocence._

_Is the best yet to come,_

_or did it pass by long ago?_

_~ Reception Fades, © Rise Against_

* * *

The bell over the Kame Game Shop door tinkled and Sugoroku reflexively smiled up from the inventory list he’d been poring over. ‘Welcome to the Kame Game Shop, how may I – ah, hello, Yugi. How was school?’

His grandson smiled but didn’t meet his gaze. ‘It was okay. How were things here?’

‘Fairly good. Shadow Hunters is proving surprisingly popular – six copies today! – and we’re almost sold out of pre-orders for the next set of Duel Monsters booster packs.’ His smile slowly morphed into a frown as Yugi quickly – and quietly – made his way towards the “Staff Only” door that led to their living quarters. ‘Why was today only okay?’

‘Lots of homework. You know, the usual. Do you need any help tonight or –’

‘No; everything’s under control here. You’re fine to focus on your studies.’

‘Thank-you.’ And then as quickly as he’d entered he had left, without even a “Jii-chan” or a wave in his wake.

Sugoroku glanced down at the inventory list. With a grimace he returned it to the shelf below the counter and headed for the store’s entryway, silently grateful that there were no customers present right now. He flipped over the “back in five minutes” sign and locked the door before following Yugi into the living area above the shop.

He wasn’t entirely certain that he recognised that tone of voice. It had been a while since he’d heard Yugi sound like that – a month or two maybe, the longest period yet – but if his hunch was correct, the store inventory would have to wait.

His grandson was dutifully cleaning up his lunch containers at the kitchen sink. The kettle was already on (Sugoroku was firmly of the opinion that studying was never as effective without tea, and Yugi was firmly of the opinion that if his grandfather thought it was a good idea then it was a good idea). Yugi was still uncharacteristically quiet, though.

‘I really am okay, Jii-chan,’ Yugi offered, not looking up from the sink.

Yes; it was definitely _that_ tone of voice. ‘Then tell me what else happened at school,’ Sugoroku said, settling into a stool at the kitchen bench.

Yugi finished his cleaning in silence, wiping and draining the sink with far more care than he’d usually give the chore. Eventually, though, he made his way over to the stool beside Sugoroku, carefully avoiding meeting his grandfather’s gaze. They sat there in silence for a minute or two as the kettle boiled, then finally: ‘We were learning about family words in English today.’

Knowing what was coming never made it any easier. ‘Ah.’

‘One of the boys was telling the class about his younger sister – Jounouchi, I think it was. She’s got some problem with her eyes and is going blind, so she has to go to a special school so she can make hospital visits and stuff. He said his mom doesn’t like letting her travel so he doesn’t get to see either of them much but he calls hers and writes to her whenever he can... Shizuka, I think he said her name was.’ Yugi scratched the back of his head absently, gaze locked onto the far kitchen wall.

‘That’s a pretty name.’

Yugi nodded. ‘Then Honda told us about his older sister. He complained a lot, said she was mean, but she sometimes plays games with him and she packs his lunches when his mother’s working so she can’t be all bad.’ He paused, thinking. ‘I can’t remember what he said her name was. Anzu’s an only child so she didn’t have anyone to tell us about.’

The old man grimaced. He had an awful suspicion he knew what was coming next. ‘Did anyone ask you?’

Yugi bit his lip. ‘Anzu realised she’d forgotten to copy down the vocabulary words from earlier so she got me to take mine out and help her with them instead.’

Sugoroku smiled weakly. The brunette girl could be bossy and immature at times (though, to be fair, twelve years old hardly demanded maturity) but there was a good reason Yugi valued her as much as he did. ‘Anzu’s a good friend, isn’t she?’

The young boy nodded. He clenched his hands into tiny fists. ‘She shouldn’t have to. It’s not fair.’ Tiny crystal tears began to form in the corners of his eyes and he crushed his eyes shut, blinking them away. ‘Why won’t Kana just come back, Jii-chan?’

Sugoroku put a gentle hand on Yugi’s shoulder, smile fading. When Yugi was younger he’d proudly tell anyone who’d listen that his Jii-chan knew _everything_. His Jii-chan was an explorer, an adventurer and an archaeologist, a real-life Indiana Jones; his Jii-chan had taught and studied at universities the world over and could answer any question you asked him.

Except for that one.

‘I don’t know, Yugi,’ he said softly, and it was the honest truth.

‘Why not?’ Yugi repeated.

Had it been any other preteen on the planet Sugoroku would have taken the question to be an attack. Hell, had it been his own daughter (the thought of whom still caused a prickling sensation behind his eyes even now) he’d have thought as much. But his grandson… Yugi wasn’t like that. After raising him single-handedly for the last few years, Sugoroku knew that the question was an open plea to the universe around them rather than a jab at his grandfather for not knowing why his twin sister had yet to come home.

Yugi, bless his innocent heart, was still stubbornly convinced that she was alive, in the way that only a child could be. Sugoroku himself had long since started to slowly accept that his granddaughter was likely dead – not that he would ever mention as such to Yugi. He knew it was a grim way of looking at things. But the memory of the door-knock summoning him to Komatsu to identify the bodies of his son-in-law and only daughter…

The burning in his eyes returned and he blinked hard before Yugi looked back at him. He was old; he could accept at least that. He couldn’t handle that level of shock again. Better to be prepared and realistic than overly optimistic and be shattered alongside his grandson. Yugi would need him to be strong when that door-knock came. He was under no illusions that eventually it would – as much as he still held out a sliver of hope that she’d been found by someone caring, or at least found somewhere safe to stay, she _had_ only been nine when she ran away. The streets of Komatsu were no place for a child on their own. No streets were, really.

He rubbed gentle circles on his grandson’s back, breathing slowly and deeply to keep his own grief at bay. ‘There’s too many possibilities to say,’ he finally said, when he felt he could trust his voice to remain steady. ‘But I’m sure wherever she is, she’s missing us too, and she’s wishing she could come home just as much as we’re wishing she was here.’

Almost three years he’d had to figure out the answer, and yet not a single word had changed from the first time Yugi had asked the question. What else could he say?

After a few moments, Yugi wiped at his eyes and nodded absently. ‘I should go and start my History homework,’ he said, picking up his schoolbag from the floor: the unspoken signal that, for the time being, he had accepted Sugoroku’s answer at face value. ‘Did you know the ancient Egyptians worshipped the sun?’ He paused for a moment before shooting his grandfather a watery grin. ‘I’m only kidding, Jii-chan. Of course you do.’

Sugoroku forced a chuckle, ruffling his grandson’s hair. ‘Once you’re finished, remind me to tell you about the Tomb of the Sphinx. I’ll bet your history teacher’s never told you about _that_.’

Yugi’s grin solidified. ‘I’ll hold you to it!’ Then in a flash he was gone, hurrying up the stairs to his bedroom.

Sugoroku let his shoulders slump with a sigh. If nothing else, he could count on Yugi’s permanent fascination with all things ancient and Egyptian to be a useful distraction – at least for the time being. With any luck that fascination would remain until… well, until it was no longer needed. Not that he had even the faintest clue when (if ever) such a time would come to pass.

That was probably the worst part of the entire situation, really – the permanent feeling of being stuck in limbo. Unable to mourn and yet unable to move on. He’d been told from the start that having someone missing was harder to deal with than having someone die but he hadn’t truly understood why until they’d passed the one-year anniversary mark of her disappearance. And now – two years, ten months and seventeen days later, thanks to an English class of all things – he couldn’t help but quietly pray for something, _anything_ , to bring an end the questions that he could never truly answer.

With one last heavy sigh, Sugoroku forced himself to his feet and ambled back to the shop. The after-school crowds usually brought at least a little extra business and truth be told he’d appreciate the distraction of work right now.

* * *

Several hours later, long after the shop had closed and once the night’s dinner was ready, Sugoroku made his way up the stairs to Yugi’s bedroom. Normally Yugi would help him with the cooking (and he could guarantee that Yugi would at least make a small fuss over Sugoroku doing all the work himself) but on days like today, when Yugi hadn’t even come down for a second cup of tea, he felt it was better to give his grandson some extra space.

‘Yugi?’ he called, knocking twice on the closed door. ‘Dinner’s ready.’

‘Already?’ The squeak of wood on wood sounded as Yugi pushed his chair back from his desk, then socked feet padded towards the door. ‘Jii-chan, you should’ve called me down to help –’

‘You seemed absorbed in your studies.’ He waited patiently until the door opened. As expected, Yugi was still in his uniform; thankfully his eyes didn’t seem to be puffy or red and his voice was back to its usual cheery brightness.

‘Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t go back to them later. I hadn’t even realised it was this late.’

‘It’s quite fine, Yugi. If I had needed help, I know all I would’ve had to do is ask.’ He gave his grandson a gentle smile and ruffled his hair. ‘Now come on down, before the food gets cold. Don’t forget your teacup.’

‘Oh! Right.’ As Yugi scurried back for the cup – which currently sat off to one side of the desk, atop a short stack of books and completed papers – Sugoroku couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the golden puzzle-box that took up the centre spot beneath the lamp.

His smile faded slightly.

_“What’s in the bag, Jii-chan?” Yugi chirps, craning his neck for a better look at the cloth satchel slung over Sugoroku’s shoulder. Even though Sugoroku’s gone down to his knees to give the twins a hug they’re still very small for five-year-olds – though Emiko wasn’t much taller herself at five either, and he suspects he himself was equally small – and it’s a bit of a stretch for them to see around his back. “It looks kind of lumpy.”_

_Reikana claps her hands excitedly. “I bet it’s something from Egypt! That was where you went this time, right, Jii-chan?”_

_He chuckles as he pulls the bag around for easier access. “Yes, I was in Egypt – and yes, what’s in the bag is also from Egypt.”_

_“Is it for us?” Yugi asks._

_“Hmm, I don’t know… have you two been behaving yourselves?”_

_“Of course!” Reikana exclaims, and Yugi nods enthusiastically._

_He reaches into the bag with a wink. ‘Then I guess that yes, these are for you two.” He feels around for a moment, smiling at their obvious excitement, before pulling out the first of the two gifts – a golden ankh pendant covered in hieroglyphics, hung on a fine silver chain. “Do you know what this is?”_

_Reikana shakes her head but Yugi scrunches up his nose as he thinks. “It’s an… ankh?”_

_“Good memory! Yes; it’s an ankh.” Sugoroku lets the trinket swing freely from the end of the chain. Yugi’s gaze returns to his own rather quickly; Reikana remains transfixed by the glinting pendant, and he silently congratulates himself on his decision-making in the markets. As similar as the twins may otherwise be, Reikana has far less patience than Yugi (particularly for puzzles) and has already amassed a small collection of shiny costume jewellery. Hideki jokes that she was probably a crow in a past life – Sugoroku can’t help but agree. “In ancient Egypt, ankhs were a symbol of life. The gods would use them to revive souls in the afterlife and they would gift them to the pharaohs to keep them healthy and strong.”_

_“It’s so pretty!” she says, sounding almost awed. “What do the kanji say?”_

_Sugoroku laughs. “They’re hieroglyphics, not kanji – but the ancient Egyptians did use them like kanji. Can you say hieroglyphics?”_

_“High-ro-griffics?”_

_“More English lessons for you, I think,” Hideki says, with a grin of his own as his daughter gives him an over-dramatic eye-and-head-roll (she hasn’t quite figured out that she doesn’t have to roll her head as well; Emiko has threatened a thousand years of pain and suffering to the person who teaches her otherwise)._

_“That’s not too bad for a first attempt,” Sugoroku says. He unclasps the chain and fastens it around his granddaughter’s neck. The ankh looks comically oversized on her tiny frame – for a moment he’s worried it’ll be too heavy for her to even hold up – but she beams at him all the same. “This one is for you, Reikana. Take care of it, and it will take care of you.”_

_Reikana nods eagerly, already holding it up to her eyes for a closer look._

_Her enthusiasm is infectious and Yugi is bouncing on his toes. “Does that mean –”_

_“Yes; that means that this one is for you.” Sugoroku reaches back into the bag for the second gift – an ornately decorated golden box, also inscribed with hieroglyphics._

_Yugi’s eyes widen as Sugoroku places the box in his hands. He’s not disappointed, but he’s definitely a little confused. “A box?”_

_“Not just a box – it’s a puzzle box.” He theatrically waves his hands over the box like a carnival fortune-teller as Yugi’s confusion turns to pure excitement. “Legend has it that this box contains a fiendishly difficult puzzle – but not just **any** puzzle. Whoever succeeds in solving it will be granted a wish!”_

_Reikana finally looks away from her ankh – she’s as much of a sucker for myths and legends as Yugi is. At least when they don’t require her to put in too much effort. “Like a genie?”_

_“Just the same. Except…” he leans in conspiratorially, hiding a grin as the twins lean in closer as well. “The legends **also** say that whoever solves the puzzle will learn the secrets of the dark knowledge and power the puzzle contains.”_

_Yugi’s mouth forms a soft “o” shape as he lifts up the golden box. “That’s… that’s so cool!”_

_“What will you wish for?” Reikana asks, still clutching her new ankh tightly in her hands._

_Sugoroku lets himself grin properly; as infrequently as he sees them (he knows that sooner rather than later he’ll have to settle down properly, so he takes as many dig site visits and guest lecture requests as he can for the time being) it’s always heartening to know that he still knows his grandchildren as well as he does. “He’ll have to finish the puzzle first, you know.”_

_Reikana scoffs. “Have you **seen** Yugi do puzzles? He’s super-fast! He’ll be making a wish tonight!”_

_A faint blush steals across Yugi’s cheeks (he is nowhere near as brash as his sister) and he clutches the box a little more tightly. “Jii-chan said it was really hard though…”_

_“Tomorrow night, then,” she says confidently. “I’ll even help you a little bit! Come on, let’s get started!”_

_“Yugi-tan, Rei-tan, what do we say?” Emiko chides._

_“Thank-you, Jii-chan!” the twins exclaim, barrelling into Sugoroku’s arms for an all-too-brief hug before scampering off to properly investigate their new gifts._

_Emiko shakes her head. “You really do spoil them too much, Dad.”_

_“As your mother always said: you can’t spoil with loving and giving, only with a lack of discipline.” He pushes himself back to his feet with a smile. “Besides – I recall you being just as excited about trinkets from my trips, once upon a time.”_

_His daughter laughs. “That was before I realised how much cleaning Mama had to do to keep everything organised!”_

‘Got it!’ Yugi said, holding up his teacup with a smile, and Sugoroku was brought back to the present with a jolt.

He forced himself to give Yugi a smile in return. ‘Head on down, then; I’ll get the lights.’

Yugi scampered off down the stairs, leaving Sugoroku standing at the bedroom door with memories of bell-chime laughter and an aching heart.

Sugoroku looked back into the bedroom and gave the old puzzle-box a soft, sad smile. In a sense he was grateful that the puzzle was almost certainly missing pieces and impossible to solve. Yugi might be old enough now to know that wish-granting genies were only found in stories but knowing something was very different to believing it. While being unable to finish the puzzle and make a wish was no doubt frustrating (Reikana’s prediction of Yugi solving it that night had been proven wrong a thousandfold by now, despite Yugi’s ongoing attempts), making a wish only to see it go unfulfilled would hurt his gentle grandson so much more.

Before he switched off the lights to follow Yugi to dinner, he gave the box one last glance and made a silent wish himself.

Just because he was old enough to know better didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to dream now and then, right?

* * *

The next day, during the mid-morning lull before lunch, Sugoroku found himself going over the inventory list again and half-heartedly wondering if he wouldn’t need to hire a casual assistant at some point this year. Compared to previous years the games industry was damn near booming at the moment; in the last four months he’d sold almost as much product as he’d sold over the entire previous year, and even though Yugi was only in the first year of middle school it seemed as if his homework load had already doubled from elementary. He knew his grandson had ambitions beyond running the old shop once he graduated and he certainly wasn’t about to stand in the way of them.

Besides – it wasn’t as if he was getting any younger. Even just ducking down behind the counter was a multi-step process now (to say nothing of climbing ladders or moving boxes of product…). And it wasn’t as if he needed a full-time manager the way he had when he’d brought Yugi home the first time – a high school student would be perfect, or maybe even a college or university student; someone who would be happy for a few hours a couple times a week.

He was just starting to consider putting together a flyer for the window when the phone began to ring.

He picked it up and answered automatically: ‘Hello, Kame Game Shop; how may I help you?’

The caller hesitated for a moment before speaking. ‘May I ask who I am speaking with?’

‘Certainly; this is Mutou Sugoroku.’

‘Ah. Excellent; I was hoping this number was still accurate.’ Another brief pause, then: ‘Mutou-san, I am Officer Kusajishi Obito; I work for the Ishikawa Prefecture police force, based in Komatsu.’

Ice-cold fingers of steel wrapped around his heart. When he finally remembered how to breathe he forced himself to exhale slowly, gripping the edge of the counter until his knuckles turned white. ‘I see.’

‘I have this number on file as the primary contact for an open missing persons case.’ He paused again. ‘Is now a good time to talk?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In terms of honorifics for this story: my aim is to use them when they're directly relevant and appropriate to the situation (e.g. characters deliberately showing respect, disrespect, familiarity/friendliness or lack thereof) but otherwise avoiding having them tacked on to everyone's name ~every~ time a name is used. I toyed with not using them at all because I do find constant -chans or -kuns to come off as very... inappropriate?... but for later chapters, it worked out that a properly-placed (or implaced) -sama/-san/-chan said a lot more in a lot fewer characters than "she said sarcastically" or "he said rudely".
> 
> As always - if mistakes are noticed, please do let me know, and I always welcome concrit and suggestions!


	3. Beyond the Point of No Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He still doesn't know if he should have answered that phone-call. Hard meetings and harder decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C/N: mentions of child abuse, sexual/physical abuse, and lots of psychological/psychiatric stuff.

_they tell me that as you get older_

_you get wiser_

_but time passes and my head_

_is still sinking into my chest_

_and i do not know_

_more than i did yesterday_

_or any day before that_

_~ © childishnotions.tumblr.com_

* * *

There were few places Sugoroku hated more than the waiting-rooms of government offices. Even though he was ostensibly here for a positive reason this time it was hard to shake off the connotations of the past. He’d been kneading his bandanna for a good ten minutes now but it was doing nothing for his anxiety levels. Truth be told, he’d been on edge since that very first phone-call but knowing that today’s meeting would determine the immediate future of his little family… well. It was a good thing that the bandanna was strong cotton.

The phone-call itself had been simultaneously both the easiest and hardest call he could have imagined. Kusajishi was merely calling as a formality, he explained; officers from Domino City would be in touch soon (once he passed on confirmation from this call, actually) and would handle things moving forwards. Procedures were procedures though, and Komatsu was where it had all started, so procedure demanded that Komatsu make the initial contact. There was no sense in mobilising Domino officers until – well. Could Sugoroku please confirm that Mutou Reikana was still missing? That she hadn’t been found elsewhere, that her body hadn’t been found elsewhere, that neither she nor her body had turned up in the intervening years without it being reported?

Sugoroku had tried to remain calm. He’d tried _so_ hard to remain calm. He’d managed to lock the door and flip the sign despite the shaking of his hands; he’d managed to stumble to the kitchen for a safe place to sit so he could focus on listening instead of staying upright. But there was only one of two reasons for this call and after nearly three years, no matter how hard he wished, he had the most awful feeling he knew what was coming.

Kusajishi was cagey when pressed for answers. He couldn’t say what had triggered this call; that would be something Domino would handle. Was Sugoroku at the Game Store now? Was the address on file still accurate? Would it be possible for him to remain there for the next – oh, hour or two, or was he required elsewhere?

Sugoroku didn’t think he could go anywhere even if he’d wanted to. When the dreaded door-knock came maybe half an hour after Kusajishi ended the call it had been nearly impossible to get just to the front of the store, never mind anywhere else.

Officers Amano and Fujimori were as polite and cagey as Kusajishi had been, at least until the three men were settled back at the kitchen bench with cups of tea (Amano’s suggestion; Fujimori had brewed while Amano confirmed Sugoroku’s details and Sugoroku tried so very, very hard to remain calm). They were both relatively senior officers and were here on behalf of two other precincts – Komatsu, where the case originated from, and Motosu, where the girl had been found. She was about the right age, though it was hard to tell from the condition she was in. Her features were close enough to have triggered a potential match in Ishikawa’s missing persons database once Motosu had uploaded it to the national level.

Sugoroku had been so certain of what would come next that he almost missed Fujimori saying that the girl had even given them the correct name. For a split second he was disappointed – three years and _still_ no firm answers? – before realising that the girl giving a name meant that she was – she was alive. _Alive_.

Before he could lose his composure completely the officers made sure he understood that even though she certainly looked the part and had given them the right name that she may in fact not be his granddaughter. They’d reminded him that it _had_ been almost three years, that it was unlikely but possible but still _very_ unlikely and to please not be too disappointed if it was a false lead, then warned him again that she’d been found in a terrible state and was he _sure_ he was ready to proceed?

He hadn’t been. Good lord, he hadn’t been. But he’d said he was ready all the same.

They showed him the pictures.

He’d never cried so hard in his life.

She’d been found under a dumpster in Motosu, they said, starved nearly to death. The girl in the photos was dehydrated, emaciated, filthy; she almost had more bruises and scabs than skin. There were piercings and jewellery in her ears than hadn’t been there before – bars, rings, and shinier things that had no place on a child’s body. Almost all the photographs showed her sleeping in a hospital bed that seemed far too large for her, with IVs in the back of her hands and an oxygen line beneath her nose.

But the one photograph that showed her eyes open – a rushed shot taken from the scene of her discovery, as the officers waited for the ambulance – left absolutely no question that it was Reikana. Her gaze was unfocussed and her pupils were pin-pricks but there couldn’t be a shadow of a doubt that they were the same brilliant violet as Yugi’s eyes – as Emiko’s eyes – as _his_ eyes.

It was her. It really, _really_ was her. 

They told him that beyond a single faded trading card and an ankh pendant hung on a fine silver chain, she had nothing on her but the tattered scraps of clothing she wore. She was still in the paediatric ward in Motosu in a fragile state, had been there since she’d been found two days or so ago, and would remain there until she was healthy enough to be released.

He asked when he – when _they_ – could go to see her, or to bring her home.

That was the first of many hesitant pauses.

Apparently being missing nearly a whole three years wasn’t enough to counteract the fact that she’d run away from the Komatsu adolescent psychiatric wards in the first place. He’d tried to argue, of course, but it was futile – one of the boys from _that_ event was still a near-vegetable and another had died not long after her disappearance. She’d run away before she’d finished the minimum mandatory treatment required from her initial management plan and three years of – of _whatever_ she’d been through, good or bad, wasn’t enough to satisfy anyone that she would be safe to return home in the first place.

And _that_ was why Sugoroku now found himself – three days after the phone-call and nearly five days after Reikana had actually been found – sitting in the waiting-room of the local social services branch instead of at home with two living, happy grandchildren. Someone at this office had the papers that would determine whether Reikana would, in fact, be allowed to return home in the first place… or whether he and Yugi would have to have their reunion in Domino’s own adolescent wards.

He hadn’t told Yugi yet, of course. It had been heartbreaking enough for him to not immediately leave for Motosu that first day, let alone remain home empty-handed; Motosu was expensively far away and even in a busy period the game store didn’t have enough of a profit margin to justify either the travel costs or the downtime required (to say nothing of the costs they were _about_ to incur). If he’d barely been able to handle it Yugi _definitely_ wouldn’t have been able to handle it. It was true his grandson was extraordinarily mature for a child of twelve but he was, in the end, still only twelve, and he still missed his sister enough for tears now and then. No. It had to be this way. He’d known the moment Amano and Fujimori left that he couldn’t tell Yugi anything until he knew for certain that Reikana could be brought home, or at least until the very day they could go to see her.

‘Mutou Sugoroku-san?’

He looked up from his lap. ‘Yes?’

A young woman in a grey pencil skirt and white blouse had emerged from deeper in the building; she blinked owlishly from behind thick glasses before giving him a polite, if hesitant smile and bow. ‘Ah, excellent. My name is Samura Tomoko; I’ve been assigned your case. Please follow me.’

He rose obediently to his feet, giving Tomoko a short bow before following her through the swinging doors that led to the interview rooms. She led him only a short distance down the corridor before directing him into an office labelled with her name.

Well. _That_ certainly boded well.

The office itself was much less cramped than he’d anticipated – it almost felt more like a counsellor’s office than that of a government branch. There were three comfortable-looking chairs arranged around a small side-table holding a carafe of water; to one side sat a short bookcase topped with various curios and there were even a few scattered children’s toys around the place. Her desk was against one of the walls rather than dividing the room.

‘Please, take a seat,’ she said, gesturing to the chairs. ‘Would you like a glass of water?’

‘Yes, please.’ He took the nearest available seat and resumed kneading his bandanna as she politely poured two glasses of water.

As he took a quick drink, Tomoko took the opportunity to retrieve a tablet and stylus from the desk. She waited until he’d returned his glass to the table before speaking again. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Mutou-san.’

‘Likewise, Samura-san.’ What he really wanted to say was that he would rather be anywhere but here, talking about anything except what they were about to talk about, but that wasn’t how he was going to reunite his family. ‘Thank-you for being able to meet so soon. I understand that this has all happened on… well, short notice.’

Her smile faded. ‘Things like this rarely happen at a leisurely pace, unfortunately. You have my condolences for having to deal with this situation at all. A little bit of background – as I said, my name is Samura Tomoko; I am a senior caseworker specialising in children’s services. I’ll be your point of contact going forwards. Has the purpose of this meeting been explained to you yet?’

‘Yes.’

‘Could you explain it to me, in your own words?’

‘We’re here to determine whether my granddaughter will be allowed to return home or – or have to return to the psychiatric wards.’ He tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

‘I see.’ She made a small note on her tablet. ‘I feel I hardly need to ask this next question, but unfortunately it’s a requirement. Of the two choices, what is your preference?’

‘Home.’ The word was out almost before he’d thought it. He could still remember visiting her in the Komatsu wards all those years ago; the sterile, medical smell and the background noises of misery had been a living nightmare on their own, never mind seeing his tiny little granddaughter wearing scrubs and hidden away behind locked and padded doors. ‘I would – I would strongly prefer her to return home.’

‘Even if it means your daily life becomes much more difficult?’

Sugoroku nearly laughed – how much more difficult could his life _be_ than the hellish limbo he and Yugi had been living for the past few years? How could a living, breathing, _present_ granddaughter be more difficult than her unexplained, unresolved absence? Tomoko was clearly expecting an answer though, so he set his jaw and straightened his back. ‘Samura-san, I am under no illusions that my granddaughter has been left unaffected by… by whatever’s happened to her over the last few years. I may be old but I am not so foolish as to think that band-aids and hugs will make things magically return to how they used to be. But if there is any possibility, _any_ way that she can recover at home with myself and – and Yugi – then no effort is too great. No matter how difficult it may be.’

Tomoko studied him intently as he spoke. When he finished, she held his gaze for a long moment before giving a slight nod of approval. ‘If that is truly the case, then the purpose of this meeting is now to ensure you fully understand exactly what difficulties are likely to lie ahead for you before making that call.’

It felt like his heart had leapt into his mouth. He’d come in here expecting a protracted battle but instead – could she _really_ be telling him –

‘You don’t have to make the decision immediately, of course. She won’t be able to leave the hospital for at least another few days and if, at the conclusion of this meeting, you _do_ still wish for her to return home then I would anticipate her being kept an extra few days to ensure she thrives once outside a medical environment.’

‘I know –’ his voice gave out for a moment and he took a shaky mouthful of water before he tried again. ‘I know you’re only doing your job, but I can’t – I don’t think there is anything you could tell me that would change my mind.’

She pursed her lips. ‘What if it wasn’t the best thing for Reikana?’

It felt like Tomoko’s words had physically slammed into his chest. The thought that – a place like _that_ could somehow be _better_ for her hadn’t even crossed his mind. How could it be? How could those bleached white cells be better for her than the game shop, where he and Yugi were? Even as he recoiled, though, he understood what Tomoko was really trying to ask… and worse, he knew the answer she was after was not the one he was certain he could give. At the very least it wasn’t an answer he could genuinely believe in. He _knew_ he had to make the right decision for Reikana but he also had to make the right decision for Yugi and himself and – gods help him – he didn’t have the faintest idea what he was meant to do if those two decisions were at odds.

Except he did. He absolutely, completely did. He just didn’t know if he could bring himself to follow through with it.

He tightened his grip on his bandanna, playing for time. ‘Her health and safety come first, of course, but I would like to have as much information as possible before making any decision. Please – please ask that again once we’ve gone over the data.’

Tomoko shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t keep pressing him, however; she merely took a sip of her own water before settling back into her chair with a heavy sigh. ‘Very well, then. Mutou-san, the thing is, missing children generally don’t stay on the streets for very long. Most are found within forty-eight hours. Those who remain missing for longer than a fortnight generally aren’t found alive; I could count on one hand the cases that I know of and the majority of those are cases where a parent or other relative has absconded with the child. Your granddaughter returning alive after being missing for almost three full years – especially given her age – is almost unprecedented.

‘Unsurprisingly she’s been very recalcitrant to discuss what’s happened to her during the period she was missing. Most of the information we have comes from the medical assessment and observations of her behaviour.’ She nodded at the tablet. ‘I realise you’re probably just glad that she was found alive but… well, there’s a lot to be discussed.’

‘Then let’s get started.’

Tomoko gave him a slight smile. ‘I wish I dealt with more parents like you.’ Then her smile disappeared. ‘To be blunt, there’s a lot that needs to happen if you and your grandchildren are to have any chance at something approaching a normal life. While further diagnoses may be made once she’s more willing to talk, at the minimum she has been diagnosed with _severe_ post-traumatic stress disorder. I know it’s not what you want to hear but you may wish to consider having her placed in an inpatient program –’

‘ _No_ ,’ he said brusquely, harshly. There was a small rush of shame as he caught the unmistakeable anger in his voice; he had not meant to let his emotions get the better of him. That wasn’t how he would bring her home. He needed to be calm and rational and make decisions based on what was best for her – for all of them. ‘I mean,’ he said, bowing his head slightly, ‘if there is any way to avoid having her admitted again, I – and Yugi – would very much prefer that. I wouldn’t… I don’t think she would handle being locked up again very well at all.’

Tomoko nodded slightly, brow creasing. ‘I can understand your reluctance. Believe me when I say sending a twelve-year-old to a psychiatric ward is not something I would ever recommend lightly – particularly for one who’s been removed from her family for so long already. I’m just trying to impress upon you the severity – and danger – of Reikana’s present condition. Taking her home… I know it seems the obvious action, but in her current state it may cause more harm than good. However,’ she said, raising one hand in what was clearly meant to be a calming fashion, ‘as long as she isn’t at risk of violence or suicide, nobody can stop you. You’re her legal guardian. I just want you to be as well-informed as possible before you make any decisions.’

‘Su… suicide?’

‘She hasn’t shown any indications of such mentality, I should say – forgive me, that was poorly phrased. What I meant to say was that unless she displays violent tendencies or a suicidal mentality, nobody can override your decisions for her care. I did not mean to imply she was suicidal.’

He exhaled, unsure whether to feel relieved or not. ‘Thank-you for clarifying that. What would you recommend instead of – of inpatient treatment, then?’

She glanced down at the tablet in front of her before looking back up to him. ‘Creating a safe, stable environment and attending regular therapy appointments. Check-ins every second day would be ideal but at a minimum I’d suggest twice weekly, at least at first.’

He wet his lips. ‘What kind of therapy?’

‘Psychological, with potential for some minor physical therapy on the side and potentially psychiatric assessment if psychological counselling alone is not sufficient. Even in the limited period she’s been under observation she’s displayed a number of concerning behaviours. While the doctors have yet to see any evidence of her prior schizotypal behaviour beyond a few dissociative episodes – which they have noted could very well be due to the PTSD – emotionally she is extremely immature for her age and incredibly defensive. She refuses to accept responsibility for even the smallest of “bad” actions, she gets upset easily and has displayed the tendency to shut down entirely if unable to remove herself from a conversation or situation she doesn’t like. In addition to that she’s been observed suffering from night terrors and displays _extremely_ poor self-esteem.’

In his head, Sugoroku heard: _she’s lived on the streets for the last several years; did you_ really _think she would come back as well-adjusted as her brother?_

‘As I said, her health has recovered relatively well given the state in which she was found; however she’s still quite underweight and small for her age.’

‘Her brother’s much the same,’ he offered. ‘Most of our family are.’

Tomoko’s smile tightened. ‘I suppose that’s not inaccurate, but malnutrition is quite a different matter to genetic inheritance; it’s difficult to say whether her growth has been stunted or not yet but she’s certainly very weak at the moment. In either case, it’s noted that she greatly favours her right leg when walking – probably an ankle or knee injury that was never treated properly – and seems to have limited mobility in her hands and wrists, also likely from untreated injuries. Luckily the attending doctors felt that no surgical intervention would be necessary; she should regain full use of her body by following the proscribed exercises and eating properly again.’

‘That’s… that’s good news.’ He twisted the worn black bandanna in his hands, trying to figure out the words he wanted to use. He knew the question he wanted to ask. He just couldn’t bring himself to actually verbalise it. ‘You said… you said she hasn’t really spoken about the last three years. Is there anything to suggest – to suggest how she ended up in Motosu?’

Tomoko pursed her lips. She, too, seemed to be searching for words. Eventually she said, ‘There were some suggestions made by the detectives. Very little of it should be considered confirmed; until Reikana herself is willing to talk, it’s only conjecture based on observations.’

‘What is considered confirmed?’

Tomoko lowered her gaze to the tablet. She didn’t really need to answer; her pause was all the confirmation that Sugoroku needed. To her credit, though, she composed herself and answered all the same. ‘The full report goes into further detail but at the bare minimum it is considered confirmed that she’s suffered repeated – and severe – physical and sexual assault.’

It felt like someone was crushing his lungs with their bare hands. He wanted to scream, vomit and rip the bandanna to shreds all at once. Hearing confirmation of what he’d been fearing ever since that first phone call was _so_ much worse than he’d thought it would be. She was _twelve_ –

A small, choked noise came from his throat. ‘And – and the conjecture?’

Tomoko kept her gaze on the tablet. ‘There’s evidence that someone gave her care over the years – she’s had at least one or two sets of stitches and her clothes were originally good quality. None of her piercings have fully healed, however, and based on the tissue trauma it’s unlikely they were done by a qualified piercer, or even permitted to heal before having the jewellery repeatedly changed. Given her age, the length of time she was missing for, the condition she was found in and her behavioural cues, the current prevailing theory is that she escaped from a trafficking situation… or was left for dead by the same.’

Sugoroku closed his eyes, willing the burning to stop.

‘I’m sorry,’ Tomoko said gently. ‘As I said – her situation is precarious. Whatever option you choose, the next few weeks are going to be some of the hardest of your life – the hardest of Yugi’s life, too. I can’t even give you an idea of when things will begin to approach normal again. Recovery in these kinds of cases… there’s no way to predict it. She may recover quickly; she may never fully recover at all.’

A faint rustling noise made Sugoroku look up, blinking furiously to clear his eyes; Tomoko had reached over to her desk for a box of tissues and was carefully placing them on the table between them. He gratefully took one to wipe his eyes and blow his nose. Tomoko remained silent throughout. She wasn’t nearly as upset as he was – how could she be? – but her eyes were noticeably softer.

After a short while, Sugoroku exhaled shakily and attempted to speak again. ‘I… I assume that the reason you suggested – suggested inpatient treatment is due to… to…’

‘Her current behaviour?’ she suggested kindly.

He nodded.

‘Only partially. From an outsider’s perspective she is remarkably well-behaved for the most part, and I think that bringing her home would not pose a major risk to yours or Yugi’s health. The problem is that the apparent “good behaviour” comes due to the unhealthy way that she is coping with the trauma she’s been through. Worse, it’s highly likely that the process of working to resolve that trauma _will_ result in her acting out as she comes to terms with things – and the form that “acting out” takes could be anything from typical children’s bad behaviour to self-destructive behaviours or a return of her priot violent outbursts. An inpatient program would have the tools and experience in place to most easily handle those extremes.’

‘But those extremes are not guaranteed.’

Tomoko shook her head. ‘No. None of it is guaranteed. Psychology is not nearly as “hard” a science as chemistry or physics – the best anyone can do is tell you what is most likely to occur.’ She gave him a soft smile. ‘I suppose it’s not too far removed from your past archaeological work, in that sense – just looking to the future instead of the past.’

He forced himself to give her a small smile in return. ‘You’ve certainly done your homework.’

She actually laughed a little. ‘Believe it or not, that wasn’t part of the dossier I was given. I almost studied anthropology and archaeology at university – your work was a constant topic of discussion.’ She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear again. ‘So, Mutou-san. We’ve gone over the current situation and a high-level view of what may or may not occur in the future. Is there anything you would like to go into further detail on, while you’re here? We still have forty minutes.’

* * *

Thirty-five minutes later, Sugoroku felt as if his very brain had been beaten black and blue – it was like first-year studies all over again. There was just _so much_ information to be taken in and dissected. Tomoko explained things in a wonderfully calm and patient manner but between the volume of information and the constant background reminder that this was his _granddaughter_ they were discussing… well.

When the conversation hit an appropriate lull, Tomoko glanced at her watch and laid her tablet down on the table. ‘Well, we’re almost out of time. I’ve prepared a packet for you to take home; it contains a copy of all the police, medical and psychiatric reports made so far as well as additional information on PTSD in children, information on Domino’s adolescent wards, a list of recommended child psychologists, information on the various programs and stipends you may have access to through us, and a few other pieces to assist you in understanding the more technical elements. As I said earlier you are not expected to make a final decision today – I would strongly recommend against it, in fact. Give yourself time to read and digest the information and weigh up your options before making any hasty calls.’ She hesitated, briefly. ‘Again – I’ve given you my recommendations. However, I can very clearly tell that you are a caring and intelligent man who will do his best for his grandchildren; the final choice will be yours.’

‘I appreciate your honesty,’ Sugoroku said, and he meant it even though he hated everything that he’d been told today. ‘It makes… it doesn’t make a decision _easier_ , but it makes me feel more confident in making one.’

Tomoko bowed her head. ‘Thank-you, Mutou-san. Again, I’m truly sorry you’ve been placed in this position at all. I’ll be checking in on you, Yugi and Reikana fairly regularly for the next few months – if there’s anything I can do to assist you, please don’t hesitate to let me know.’

He bowed his own head. ‘I will, certainly. Thank-you, Samura-san. I’ll – I’ll be in touch in the next day or two with a decision.’

A decision. A single, simple decision.

The bandanna remained in his hands for the entire bus ride home. It got him some strange looks, certainly, but it was worth it to prevent himself from opening the wretched, terrifying papers in the bag across his lap.

* * *

He didn’t look at the documents until much later that night, well after Yugi had gone to bed. He still hadn’t wanted to, not really – if he didn’t read them then there was no risk of learning something that might mean changing his mind. If he didn’t read them then there was no risk of learning something that would mean Reikana would have to go to the wards. Ignorance truly was bliss.

Unfortunately there was nobody else who could read them. No parents, no grandmothers, not even uncles or aunts. He couldn’t involve Arthur in this – oldest friend or not, this just simply wasn’t the kind of _thing_ he could talk to Arthur about (especially since, if memory served, Arthur now had a little granddaughter of his own). And he certainly couldn’t involve _Yugi_ in this… which left just himself.

So when he was quite sure that Yugi had drifted off to sleep Sugoroku made himself a pot of tea and settled down at his desk, notepad and pen at the ready, and began reading.

The police report was the easiest to digest. He’d already seen the photos of her discovery and been briefed on what had transpired from Amano and Fujimori; there was nothing really new there, beyond the notes on the local investigation to determine how she’d ended up in the alley in the first place (still inconclusive). The close-ups of her various piercings gave him pause. He almost smiled reading about how fiercely she clung to the ankh he’d given her and actually _did_ smile when he read that she’d absolutely refused to relinquish her dirty copy of Death Volstgalph, even for a fresh one. Yes… she was certainly Yugi’s sister, all right.

The medical assessment was much, much harder. Even though the photographs of her injuries were clinical and close-up enough that he could pretend they were textbook images it still made his throat burn to know – to know what he was looking at. While there were no explicit pictures attached it made him nauseous to read over the descriptions of the internal damage she’d suffered. He had to stop reading for a short while when he reached a paragraph explaining that whatever had caused the damage must have been both repeated and severely injurious, as her age meant that anything minor would almost certainly have healed over without a trace… and that she’d had to be sedated for the examination.

God. _God_.

The dreaded psychiatric assessment was both better than anticipated and harder than he’d imagined. Tomoko’s overview had been pretty comprehensive and she’d already answered a lot of his questions at the meeting; there weren’t a lot of surprises. There were, however, a _lot_ of technical terms, so he spent longer than anticipated cross-referencing the report against Tomoko’s extra information.

At the conclusion of the report, he sat back and stared hard at the list he’d created.

_Physically weak/malnourished (time, food, medication as needed – manageable)_

_Existing injuries (physio exercises – cleaning of wounds – manageable)_

_Emotional immaturity (time, therapy, support – manageable?)_

_Extreme anxiety (therapy, medication – how to manage outbursts safely? In public?)_

_Night terrors (not nightmares – terrors – effect on Yugi? What if accidentally violent?)_

_Dissociative episodes (to date, non-violent – manageable w/therapy? What else? How to resolve if triggered?)_

_Maladaptive behaviours (avoidance/withdrawal, minor self-harm – picking scabs/scratching – potential high risk of increasing in severity – manageable? How? **How?** )._

So many question marks. So many unknowns.

Sugoroku leaned back and rubbed his eyes, hard.

This… this was surreal. Terrifying. He couldn’t shake himself of the feeling that this was all a waking dream (or nightmare – he hadn’t worked out which). There was nothing he’d ever done that prepared him for this. He was a scholar, a retired archaeologist, a game-shop owner, a grandfather; he knew how to teach and educate, how to excavate a dig site, how to balance a till, how to mend scraped knees and bake cookies.

He wasn’t a psychologist. He wasn’t a psychiatric nurse. He didn’t know how to differentiate between genuine accidents and self-inflicted injuries. He didn’t know how to tell the difference between a nightmare and a night terror. Hell, he’d never even _heard_ of dissociative episodes until earlier today – and he had absolutely no idea how to identify them on the fly, let alone resolve them. He honestly, truthfully, did not know if he could handle this, and acknowledging that fact was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

He was only one man. One old, greying man, with neither the skillset nor the knowledge to effectively manage his granddaughter as she was now.

The next day, he waited until the mid-morning lull before dialling Tomoko’s extension. She picked up on the second ring. ‘Samura Tomoko speaking.’

‘Hello, Samura-san – it’s Mutou Sugoroku. From yesterday.’

‘Ah, Mutou-san!’ Something that sounded like a door closing echoed over the connection. ‘I thought I might be hearing from you soon. I take it you’ve made a decision, then?’

‘I have.’ He took a deep breath. It didn’t make the words come any easier but it leant them a weight they wouldn’t have otherwise had: ‘We’ll be bringing Reikana home.’

He was only one man. One old, greying man, with neither the skillset nor the knowledge to effectively manage his granddaughter as she was now. But he knew how to learn and had two extremely good reasons to do so, so learn he would.

He just hoped it would be enough.

* * *

Over the next week or so Sugoroku went over the stack of papers until he could nearly recite them word-for-word. Lists of behaviours to watch out for and suggested solutions for managing them danced through his head as he served customers in the shop. As he screwed together flat-pack furniture (carefully chosen for rounded corners and neutral colours) he reviewed the list of suggested exercises given by the physiotherapist and planned how best to introduce them to her. He worked his way through the list of recommended psychologists until he found one who was both willing and available to take on her case; he talked to Yugi’s principal to arrange for short-term leave and cover packets (and unexpectedly, a promise of an interview for placement should she ever reach the point where she was capable and ready to attend school).

And then finally, on a cold and sunny Wednesday morning a little over two weeks after that first heart-stopping phone-call, he met Yugi at the breakfast-table with casual clothes and two large mugs of green tea.

‘It’s not a free-dress day today, Jii-chan,’ Yugi yawned, frowning slightly.

‘No,’ he agreed, ‘it’s not. You’re not going to school today.’

The boy paused for several seconds. ‘But… why?’ he finally asked. ‘Is something wrong with the store? Do you need help? We’ll need to contact school and –’

‘It’s all been sorted.’ He patted the seat beside him. ‘It’s nothing to do with the shop – we’re actually going to be closed today, probably tomorrow too. Come sit down; we need to talk.’

Yugi’s frown deepened. He came and sat down regardless, though. ‘Closed? But we _never_ close.’

Sugoroku looked down at his own mug of tea, then back to his grandson. ‘No, we don’t,’ he agreed. ‘Today is… a special case.’

‘It’s not your birthday, is it?’

He almost laughed at that. ‘No,’ he said with a smile, ‘No, it’s not my birthday. Yugi… Yugi, do you remember a few nights ago, when that call came through for me from a lady called Samura?’

‘Yes.’

‘And how I couldn’t tell you what it was about then, but I said I would soon?’

Yugi took a sip of his tea and nodded nervously.

Sugoroku exhaled. He’d been planning this conversation for days now; ever since that first phone-call, really. Each word still felt almost impossible to say. ‘Samura is a social services worker and you’ll be meeting her today.’

If Yugi had looked nervous before, he looked almost terrified now. ‘Why?’

‘Because she’s going to be helping us for a little while.’ he said gently, returning his mug to the table and placing his hands on Yugi’s shoulders. ‘Yugi, I need you to listen very carefully to me now, okay? Nobody’s in trouble, nobody’s done anything wrong – but the next few weeks are going to be very difficult for both of us and I’ll be needing your help a lot, so Samura will be keeping an eye on us to make sure we’re okay.’

‘Are you sick? Is something –’

‘Yugi. Nothing’s wrong. I promise.’

Yugi fell silent. He trusted Sugoroku, there was no question there, but he still seemed scared. Not terribly surprising, really – Sugoroku didn’t feel all that more confident himself.

He gave Yugi’s shoulder a soft squeeze. ‘Are you ready to listen to me?’

Another sip of tea, another nervous nod.

Sugoroku bowed his head and took one last deep breath before looking up again. ‘Yugi, a few weeks ago in Motosu the police found – they found Reikana.’

Yugi’s eyes widened, almost to the point of losing all focus. The mug began to tremble.

‘She was sick – very sick,’ he continued, willing his own hands to remain steady. ‘She’s been through a lot and is still very scared. She’s not going to be like you remember her being, even before… before the wards. But she’s alive, and she’s coming back home to us, and we’re going to be bringing her home today.’

Silence. Still, heavy, silence.

‘…really?’ Yugi finally asked. His whole body was shaking; droplets of tea were beginning to run down the side of his mug. ‘Like – it’s really, really –’

‘It’s her.’ God help him, he couldn’t stop his voice shaking. ‘It’s really her, Yugi.’

The mug dropped to the floor with a loud _smash_.

Yugi threw his arms around Sugoroku’s neck, crying and thanking and sobbing and questioning at a million miles an hour. _When are we_ and _how did they_ and _is it really_ and _where is she_ and _really **really?** _and _please can we_ and _sorry for the mug_ and _I can’t believe_ and _when are we_ –

‘It’s okay,’ he said softly, watching the tea slowly spread through the shards of ceramic on the kitchen floor. ‘It’s going to be okay. It’s all going to be okay.’


End file.
